


Certain Tastes

by moonmoth (greyvvardenfell)



Series: Fictober 2019 [16]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23571598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/moonmoth
Summary: Amalia and Lucio are their typical selves during a banquet.
Relationships: Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana)
Series: Fictober 2019 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696495
Kudos: 6





	Certain Tastes

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fictober prompt: "There is a certain taste to it."

Amalia snorted into her wine, barely keeping the dark beverage from spilling into her lap as she attempted to hide her laughter. Lucio’s pleased grin, visible through the sparkling facets of his own glass, merely spurred her on, turning restrained huffs to throat-closing cackles. 

“Am I right, or am I right?” he whispered loudly, smacking his lips. The rich red vintage stained them so prettily. He knew it, too.

She sucked in a steadying breath. “When you’re right, you’re right, ‘Cio.”

“I’m always right.”

“That I’m not so sure you’re right about.”

Lucio scowled, feigning offense. The exaggerated lines of his makeup extended the points of his brows into his hair, the designs under his eyes stabbing across his cheekbones like knives. “But you just agreed with me!”

“I agreed that it looks like Vulgora forgot a costume.” Amalia set her glass down and rested her gloved hand on Lucio’s. “Which it does. They look exactly the same as they always do, just… redder.”

“And pointier. Don’t forget pointier.” He fell into an easy smile again.

“How could I?” The sharp edges of Lucio’s prosthetic arm had been filed and polished for the Masquerade, its own points outlined in black to emphasize the contours against the gold from which they were made. Amalia ran the tip of one finger along his elbow plate and hummed in satisfaction.

“You like that, Mali? You like me all shined up?” Despite his bravado, he’d put his wine down too, focusing all of his attention on her.

“Well, it’s a question of taste, isn’t it? Some people know how to show up for a party in style.” Her gaze flowed pointedly down his body. “And some people don’t.”

Lucio leaned back in his chair, basking in her praise. “We show them how it’s done, my swan.“ 

“And once again, you’re right,” Amalia crooned, pinning his hand to the table with hers as she lifted herself from her seat to sink her teeth into his earlobe. “My pet.”

His whole demeanor shifted, melting into boneless limbs and pleading eyes. His thighs, already flung wide in confidence, began to tremble as he felt the tickle of Amalia’s long white-blonde hair against his bare chest. The sweet spice of her perfume, imported from the shores of a distant inland sea just for her, spun through his head faster than any wine he’d ever had. What he wouldn’t give to fall to his knees for her, if she so requested. What he wouldn’t give to have her tease him for it the way they had been teasing the other Masquerade attendees all night. What he wouldn’t give for her, period. 

She ignored the whimper that caught halfway up his throat when she released him and settled back in her chair again, smiling slyly as she licked the bead of blood from her lip. “Oh look, ‘Cio, isn’t that Quarnel, from the armorer’s?" 

With effort, Lucio followed the direction her elegant finger indicated, towards a painfully thin man bedecked in furry white trousers, spiral horns jutting from the papier-mache goat head that was his only other article of clothing. The birthmark mottling his left forearm gave his identity away. 

"Oh, he is so dead.”

“Now, now, ‘Cio. He’s just… ha! What a stupid dance!”

“He’s making fun of me!”

“What can I say, sweetie?” Amalia swept her wine into her hand again and winked at him before tossing back a healthy gulp. “When you’re right, you’re right.”


End file.
